Harry Potter and the Burial At Sea
by julesver
Summary: Sirius's death has left Harry mentally scarred. He has also left him with an underwater mansion, thirteen basilisks eggs, and one rebellious manservant.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: The Black Inheritance**

"…_. You see my dear nephew, although the Djinn has unlimited magical power, there is one rule that irrevocably binds them all. A Djinn could never hurt its own master."- Jhadar Ashwald, the Ghoulcaller, to his nephew_

* * *

Harry Potter was used to waiting. For a decade he waited for an imaginary family to take him from his abusive relatives. They never came. For a year, he waited for the girl of his dreams to take notice of him. When she finally did, it was after the death of her boyfriend. And now he waited again, in the summer before his sixth year, he waited for a meaningful human contact; a letter maybe, a short chitchat, or even a friendly hello from a neighbor. He'll take anything. But everybody around him, maybe except for Dudley, avoided him like the plague. Harry suspected that it was 'for his own protection' like Dumbledore had always said.

For two weeks he waited for letters; be it from his friends, the order, Dumbledore, anybody really. He had hoped for consolation or words of kindness, things that people in grieving usually received from friends and family. Yet no owls ever came for him. He wrote countless of Letters to Ron, and even more to Hermione. And yet, Hedwig always came back with nothing attached to his leg. Harry Potter is once again left alone.

For a while Harry thought that this summer is going to be like the last one. No one to talk to. No news about the wizarding world. Boy was he wrong. This summer was nothing like the last.

Last summer he had Dudley and Cedric Diggory to think about. This summer the Dursley became bolder at the news of Sirius's death, the guilt of his godfather's death weigh heavily on his mind, and the memory of Cedric's death replayed night after night until Harry had simply given up on sleep. Last summer he wondered around the neighborhood to ease his boredom. This summer Harry stopped going outside, stopped going in for meals, and just waited by his windowsill, petrified by the memory of the veil.

'All of that, just for a prophecy.' Harry's heart ached as thought about the people who had died during the Ministry invasion. All for the babbling of some nut job prophet.

He couldn't care jack shit about the prophecy. He couldn't muster up the strength to even think about Voldemort. The total media blackout and complete lack of news certainly helped him in that regard, but even if he received news about Voldemort, Harry is simply too tired to want to deal with it. He hated everybody, he hated Dumbledore, he hated Ron and Hermione, but most of all he hated himself for the death of his Godfather.

So Harry stayed inside and kept waiting. His unruly hair grew to unacceptable length, but he didn't care. His lack of food has left his cheek hollow and made his face pale, but he didn't care. 'Its my punishment.' He thought. 'I should never be allowed happiness. Not after I killed Sirius.' He continued this behavior, wasting away near his windowsill, until one day he saw the silhouette of an owl appearing from the horizon. After reading the contents, Harry scrambled to gather his belongings and stuffing them into one chest. Hoping for the best, he raised his wand and hailed a ride from the Knight Bus. It may be his last salvation.

* * *

Jittery knees, cold sweat on his brows, his suitcase in tow. Harry Potter looked like a starving artist rather than a soon to be heir to one of the most noble and ancient wizarding houses. People kept looking at him as though he didn't belonged. Harry was too busy being nervous to even care about them. He kept glancing down to the letter, a boring blue Gringotts form with Sirius's unmistakable scrawl on it.

**Gringotts Wizarding Bank LLC**

_**Non-Bloodline Inheritance Form #1207327**_

_**Filling: Sirius Black**_

_**Date: 13**__**th**__** February 1996**_

_**Notary: Gringotts Wizarding Bank, Head Goblin, Grimface**_

"_**To **__my Godson Harry James Potter__** I bequeath;**_

_**All **__the fortune and property of the Black Estates, _

_**Access to**__ the Black Vaults (#801-813), with all of its entire contents._

_**The title of**__ Lord of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black,__** along with its rights and ownership of **__all servants employed under the name__**.**_

_Also all of my personal belongings, including Buckbeak the Hippogriff._

_**Signature:**_

_Sirius Black_

_**Witness Signature:**_

_Grimface, Head Goblin_

_**Note: All inheritance must be accepted by September 1 and will only be valid with a stamp notarized by the Head Goblin at Gringotts Wizarding Back"**_

It's a short and official form, with no other last words from Sirius, or letter explaining why he had done what he did. There was no final goodbyes, or sentimental 'I wish you well'. Harry refused to believed that the closest person that he had to a family would leave him a simple Gringotts form as his last goodbye.

That is why Harry Potter is waiting in line, with people judging his attire and his messy hair. He will find Sirius's letter to him. Maybe it is buried in one of the vaults so that nobody but him could see it. Maybe it is shoved in one of the drawers in those so called Black estates that he was left with. Either way Harry will find Sirius's letter to him, and maybe then he could find some sort of solace.

Harry tried to ignore the pointed look of a witch in a yellow pea coat, but her judging stare made him smooth his hair forward. He is way too underdressed to received a fortune from his Godfather's death.

"NEXT." The goblin lady at the counter hollered. The witch in the yellow pea coat turned her nose up and walked away from Harry, like his presence offended her. Harry sighed and tried to put the image of her disgusted face out of his head. His messy attire was partly intentional, so that nobody could recognize him. He even went to go as far as taking his glasses off. He didn't expected so much hostility though.

"NEXT." Harry jumped at the unholy screech, grabbing the multitude of his possession up as he struggled to walk up to the counter The goblin lady looked at him in disdain. "Form." She said, her head leaning on her hand, a nail file in the other. She was a perfect picture of an overworked, bored, and apathetic office worker. Harry handed the blue form to her, and watch in satisfaction as her eyes became wide as saucers.

"You're-"

"uh-huh"

"Harry Potter sir! I-I-"

"Psst!" Harry smiled as she stammered apologetically. "Its ok, its fine." He waves his hand. "I just need this form notarized. I rather do it quickly. Wouldn't want to cause a commotion you know." He said shrugging his shoulder.

"Right away sir!" The Goblin lady dropped her nail file and scampered off to a door behind her. Harry felt a rush of pride, coupled with embarrassment. It may be slightly nasccisictic, but doing these kinds of things really cheered him up.

The goblin lady slowly crept from behind the door."Mr. Potter sir," She started, clearing her throat. "Im afraid Mr. Grimface is not available today. I can arrange a meeting for you in two days if you like?"

Harry bit his lip, his brow creasing with weariness. In any other situation he wouldn't mind waiting for a few more days. After all, he is not a power crazed celebrity who wants everything done immediately. However, Harry is wary that Dumbledore and the Order might find out that he had escaped from the Dursley. He is not in the mood of a lecture after they had ignored him all summer.

'Screw it.' He decided. Why should he care if Dumbledore and his friends worry about him? They certainly didn't care about him enough to give him some emotional support after his godfather's death. Harry _hoped _that they realized that he wasn't in the Dursley, so they would run around looking for him like headless chickens. All he had to do is to refrain from using his wand, and nobody could trace him. "That's fine." Harry said decisively. "Arrange the meeting for 3 days from now. Its not like I have anywhere else to be."

* * *

In the next morning Harry woke up from his bed, his body aching and his stomach growling. He spent the night at the Sturdy Bucket, a new upstart Inn that is apparently in competition with the Leaky Cauldron. Harry liked the place because its new, its clean (well, cleaner than the Leaky Cauldron),and most of all its empty. Turns out, most Diagon Alley shoppers are loyal to the Cauldron, and would not give this new Inn a try. It's a pity really, since the inn was very cheap and discreet. Plus, its located on the outskirts of Diagon Alley, which is far enough to not hear the bustle of the town, but its close enough to shop around from.

He hungrily ordered a full English breakfast with a pot of tea, his appetite rising for the first time in weeks. It must've been because of the letter from Gringotts. Harry hoped that Sirius had left his something, a letter maybe, or even a memory in a pensive. He would accept anything that would soothe the sudden departure of his godfather from his life.

Harry shook his head, trying hard to not think about Sirius's death again. He knew that he is at fault, but he have to get up and buy some new supplies for the school year today. It simply wouldn't do if he were to slunk back into his depressive hole. He couldn't live like this, not since the reading of Sirius's will is only days away.

So Harry turned his attention to the big plate of hot food before him. There was an array of smoked meat product crammed into a comically large plate. Smoke thick cut bacon, juicy breakfast sausages, sautéed mushrooms, blood pudding, and some Heinz beans. (Even the wizarding world couldn't deny the convenience of factory-produced beans.) On a smaller plate, he had some hot butted toast with friend eggs and half of a tomato broiled to bits. Salivating, Harry stuffed his mouth until there was nothing on the plate but the tomato.

Seconds later, he was kneeling in the washroom and had his head halfway down the toiled. 'It seems like I shouldn't eat so quickly.' He thought to himself as food spewed out of his mouth. As delicious the breakfast was, he couldn't help but throwing it all up. His stomach was in shock after not eating anything for a while. After he was finished, he brushed his teeth and went back to his breakfast table. With a deep sigh, he ate his breakfast of a lonely tomato coupled with a cup of strong sweet tea.

'It might be a disappointing start to the day.' He thought. 'But I'm not going to be a shut in anymore. I'm going to go out and live my life! Today is going to be a good day.' Harry smiled to himself as he finished his mug of sweet tea. 'Today is going to be a good day.' He said looking out expectantly to Diagon Alley.

* * *

Harry Potter was not having a good day.

At first, he expected a nice quiet day of browsing through stores, maybe have a shopping a spree or two from Quality Quidditch supplies. He quickly realized how naïve he had been for thinking that a little hair growth and weight loss would disguise him from the public. After ten minutes of browsing Flourish and Bolts, a couple of first years began to point at him and said "Blimely! Its Harry Potter!" in an overly enthusiastic voice. Naturally, he sprinted into the next available shop and was promptly rediscovered by a different crowd.

He might have gotten away if the Daily Prophet hadn't had his photo plastered on every front page. Its always the same photo too, the one where he had a stupid look on his face while Dumbledore stood in front of his heroically. God, he hated how he looked like Dumbledore's helpless little sidekick.

So in the evening, under cover of darkness, Harry went into Madam Pimpernelle's Beautifying Potions to buy some disguise. Firstly he needed one of those muggle contact lenses to hide his distinctly green eyes, but the magic makeup store only had a potion that changes his eyes into a different color every few hours. 'This would work well enough.' He said as his eyes turned a deep shade of blue. He looked rather dashing in blue. Next he needed something to hide his hair. He first went for a temporary hair dye, hoping that some magic in a jar would disguise his distinctive black hair. The Magic hair mouse however, turned his hair into the color of seaweed, when what he wanted was blond flowing mane. He sighed and forked over two more galleons for a simple light brown wig. 'I'll looked washed out in blond anyway.' He said as he wore his disguise of brown wig and blue eyes.

On the second day Harry's day wasn't that much different. He opted for a robe this time, hoping that it would blend him in with the crowds. There was a few curious stares, but it was mostly because of his eye potion, which kept shifting into a new color every two seconds. So he let people stared. As long as he kept his scar covered, he would simply be a passing metamorphogus.

After an afternoon of mindless wandering and small chitchats with some stall owners, Harry saw a flash of red from the corner of his eyes. It saw Ginny. For a moment butterflies exploded in my stomach, and he rushed towards her. He stopped, his smile melted and his stomach dropped. She was smilling. Laughing. Swaying on the arms of Dean Thomas.

She was happy.

Behind her were the rest of the Wesley, moving along Diagon Alley without a care in the world. The family was moving briskly, with Ron and Hermione trailing behind them. They were like Ginny, happy, looing like they're without a care in the world. If Harry looked into a mirror he would see the physical manifestation of his mental scars. Sunken cheekbones, haughty eyes, Harry looked like a different person. The Weasley however, bears nothing but normalcy in their faces. Especially not Ron, who was too busy groping Hermione to pay attention to where they were going.

Hermione took Ron's hand and pulled him into the back of the storefront. Instinctively, Harry followed them, his hand clenched into a fist. He peered from a pile of stacked barrels, holding his breath. The two was kissing. Passionately. So passionately that Harry could hear their hitched breaths ten feet away.

"No Ronnie!" Hermione yelped and slapped Ron's away. The redhead persisted, his movement more erratic and urgent. "Come on 'mione. Just one more before we go home.." he pleaded. Hermione pushed him away. "Here?" she laughed. "I am not doing it here Ron." She said with a bite of arrogance that Harry never heard before.

"I promise you'll like it." Ron growled and pounced on top of Hermione, making her shriek and giggle. Harry wanted to jinx them so bad, just a small prank to teach them a lesson for keeping their relationship from him. Just as he began to mutter the words to the Blood Boil hex, he stopped. Ron was shrugging his robes off. "I just wanted to fit as much of _this_ before we go back babysitting Potter." Ron scoffed. "That little bitch irritates me so much."

"Roooon." Hermione scowled at him. "Stop getting angry. You're with me now, so stop thinking about him." She leaned closer to give him a kiss. "We have a whole year with him so no need to rush back into it." She said, her fingers playing in his trousers, making the redhead moan.

"You think Potter will throw another hissy fit? For, you know, us ignoring him again?" Ron asked aloud. She rolled her eyes and groaned into the air. "Ugh who cares? We know his letters are all going to be about the dead dog. Besides, Dumbledore didn't ordered us to talk to him this year so we don't have to." She pushed herself closer to the redhead. "Now shut up and kiss me Weasley."

* * *

Harry ran.

_That little bitch irritates me so much._

His chest hurt.

_..babysitting Potter_

His feet tingled

_Dumbledore did ordered us-_

Everything hurt, but he ran anyways.

He ran until he cant feel his feet and sounds of traffic filled the air. He was out of Diagon Alley. He literary ran out of the massive magical plaza on feet alone. He never knew anyone could exit Diagon Alley manually except through the Leaky Cauldron. Harry leaned back on a red telephone booth, trying hard to catch his breath and make sense of everything. No matter how hard he try to justify it, there is no reason for his friends to talk about him like that.

"Friends." He said out loud. What a ridiculous notion. All this time they were pretending. The adventures and promises they shared were just an act, probably staged by Dumbledore so that he could be attached to someone in Hogwarts. Every fun and brave things they have done together were merely coats of paint to white wash the lies they've been trained to fed him. To be honest he couldn't act so surprised. He could felt the distance between Ron and Hermione. At first he thought it was because he's the Boy-who-lived, but who knew that the truth would be so much more painful.

Since his boyhood Harry had always been friendless, so he never really knew the differences between true or false friends. He was happy enough about having friends that questioning them seemed wrong. But he must face the truth. Harry did not lose his friends. They were never his to begin with. They were simply a crutch that Dumbledore put in place so that Harry would enjoy being in Hogwarts. For five very long years, Harry Potter has been seeing the world through a skewed and distorted glass prison, one that Dumbledore crafted through his lies. But now he is blinded no more.

Yes. He can see it now. He can see everything.

"Get me the Head Goblin."

"But sir!"

"It's concerning a most urgent and sensitive matter."

"Sir please! Its after hours and the bank is closed!"

Harry stopped his long strides and knelled until he is nose to nose with a scurrying goblin. "Get me the Head Goblin or the Potter and Black family will no longer be a patron at your establishment." He raised his bangs to show him his scar. "Now take me to him, or do I have to find him myself?"

The little creature shrieked and ran stumbling through his steps, clearly terrified by whatever threats Harry is forcing upon him. Harry followed him quietly, taking no pleasures in extortion or hand twisting whatsoever, though apparently he's rather good at them. 'No wonder the Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin.' He mussed.

He was taken into a lavish office, where an old decaying goblin apologized profusely to him and notarized his forms. Through all of it, Harry simply sat, calm, relaxed, and poised. He looked regally indifferent, but the truth was he was numb. He was numb to the compliments. Numb to the ass kissing. Numb to the bows, the apologies and to the fake smiles he saw much too often. When he was showed to his new vaults he was too numb to admire the mountains upon mountains of gold and rubies. He simply walked from one vault to the next and waved his hand to dismiss the Goblins. Harry Potter was obscenely rich, but more importantly he simply had stopped giving a shit.

When the last Goblin shut the door of the last vault, Harry crumbled to the ground and cried. He's crying because all his life he had surrounded himself with people who were ordered to be there. He's crying because when he was wasting his time with them, he could've missed out on his true friends. He's crying because from 12 massive vaults, Sirius never left him any letters, only a stupid blue form crumpled on the ground next to him. Never in his life has Harry Potter ever felt so alone.

So he allowed himself that little moment of weakness. He had been trying hard to be positive about his whole predicament, but the truth is he simply cannot do all of this alone. He can't go back to Hogwarts and play the little games that they have always played before. He couldn't bring himself to spend nine months of his life next to a bunch of liars and cheaters. Let Dumbledore find another hero, because Harry Potter refuses to be his little puppet anymore.

He stood up and walked past the rows of bookcases in this vault and sat down at a small drawing table on the center of the vaults. It was crammed full of papers and foreign scribbles, but amongst that chaos, there was a book that lay unperturbed on the center, it pages seemed to call for him. At first, the alphabets seemed foreign to him, but as he turned away, the words shifted and morphed into English. "Whoa." Harry approached the book cautiously. He had his fair share of magical books in his second year, and he would very much like to not have his soul sucked out like Ginny. However, curiosity overpowered his common sense. Harry took the book and began to read.

"Jhadar Ashwald, the Magnificent." He read those words out loud. For a moment, a warm sensation ran down his whole body. He was not frightened, he felt safe. Whatever the book is, Harry feels like they are not harmful to him, or to any Black descendant for that matter. As he scanned the pages, a wealth of information poured into him.

This book is an autobiography of Jhadar Ashwald, who the prominent wizard during 90 BC. Originated from Egypt, he later moved his philanthropy and education work to Greece, where his teaching flourished under the newly minted Roman Empire. He was a celebrated Egyptian figure, a beloved Roman senator, and a fierce conqueror. In his autobiography there was multiple exchanges between him and his nephew, who he favored very much. Behind the scene of his public life as an educator, leader, and face of the people, Jhadar Aswald was also known in the magical community as a advocate of newly discovered magic.

Harry became entranced by the life of this one wizard, who seemed to achieved so much for a mere mortal. He reached the end of the book, red eyed and tired, to find one surprising revelation hidden in a letter to his nephew.

"….. _My dear Nephew, at my old age I long for the age where I am the palace educator, where life was simple and treachery was limited to physical harm. I long to sit by the Nile and wade to the realm of the dead. Before I die, I must confess to you one thing._

_All the achievements and titles I have accumulated in this life is merely not the work of my own sweat. Since I was a childe, I have acquired the loyalty of a Djinn, a magical demon who grants your greatest desires. This demon has been more than a servant to me, he had been a friend where I have none, and a companion during my loneliest nights. Because of this, I seek to reward this demon by granting him freedom, but this decision has proved to be the greatest mistake that I have ever made._

_The demon went on a rampaging massacre and built and army against me, comprised of Djinns that he had freed by killing their masters. The wretched demon gave his services to my enemies. He is trying to topple my final conquest and I'm afraid to say child, he will succeed. When this letter finds you in Alexandria, your uncle will be nothing but a dead body._

_Despair not my Dear Nephew, for you can avenge my death. I will contract the demon again into the family of Aswald, and you will inherit him from me. Never again free the Djinn, but as you pass him down to your children, put him in the most wretched visage that you could think of, and let his wretched existence carry on until the end of time. This is will last wish."_

Under the letter were a multitude of names and signature. Harry scanned the names, a cold chill ran down his spine as multitude of Aswald's descendant began to think of the most gruesome and humiliating creature to lay upon the Djinn. Once he was a minotaur. In another age, he was a rat. One of the more forgiving descendants gave him the visage of a dog, but there was never one descendant that has abandoned Jhadar's last will.

His eyes stopped at the end of the line, when the foreign names began to change into British ones. Trying to keep his heart steady, he finished reading the list.

_Walburga Black: I bind Keacher, the house elf, to my services._

_Sirius Black; I bind Keacher, the house elf, to my services._

"Keacher…" Harry whispered, his voice full of anger and malice.

A loud bang and a sinister drawl came from behind him.

"You called Master?"

* * *

**A/N:**

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the Property of JK Rowling, I am not gaining any profit from writing this fanfiction.

Hello all! Thank you for clicking on my story. I got the idea after I played Bioshock 3 new DLC, so I figured the title should reflect my inspiration. I hope this chapter has peaked your interest in the next chapters to come. I have big plans for Harry and his newly found inheritance. That being said, please do review! I am trying hard to improve my writing. Therefore if you have any thoughts, be it positive, constructive, or flames, they are all welcomed.

See you all next chapter!


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: ****Wishes**

* * *

"_If desire fuels the life of man, then their wishes are the Djinn's daily bread."_

_The Mythical Demons of Mesopotamia, pg 35_

* * *

Harry turned his hateful look to the form of the pitiful old elf. Everything about him was crooked. The way he speaks drew a chill down his spine, and the sight of the elf made him want to turn away. Next to Voldemort, Kreacher is truly the most despicable and wretched creature that Harry had ever seen. His eyes showed nothing but hatred, and the knowledge that he had betrayed his masters made Harry hate the creature even more.

The house-elf looked up from his deep bow, and his apathetic stare morphed into shock. "Harry Potter?" He asked, confounded by the situation.

"Its Master to you now." Harry said icily. "Apparently I am the new Black heir and you are now my servant."

Kreacher was quiet for a moment, but then he burst out laughing, falling over backwards, his yellowing teeth gleaming in the light. "The Potter boy? My master?" he strained through his uncontrollable laughter. "You're not even pure blooded! Of course the blood traitor would give the inheritance to someone who is outside the family._"_ He cackled some more. "Now, what wretched thing will you cloak me as? A goblin? A sprite? Trust me, the Last Black had the right idea. I rather be in a useless form when I am serving a useless master." He said angrily, turning and waddling towards the table to bring Harry the glowing book. "Go and do your worst, _Master._"

When he raised the book towards Harry, an angry hand swept it to the side, making it clatter against the floor. He looked up, an insult ready at the tip of his tongue, but he stopped when he saw Harry Potter struggling to keep his tears in check. They were not tears of sadness, but one of anger. "Don't you dare insult Sirius you shape shifting freak! Sirius Black is twice the man that you could ever be."

Kreacher's large wrinkled eyes winded and glowed gold like the book did. The book levitated itself back onto the table, runes flying around it on ribbons. "It is done." An ominous voice said out of nowhere. Kreacher's chest began to be enveloped by a sheen of liquid gold. It covered his entire being as it began to stretch and morph, silent screams of agony could be seen in his ever-changing features.

The enveloping gold began to recede from Kreacher's new features. Light skin, Dark long hair that flowed straight down his cheeks, and a strong nose that's unmistakably a Black family trait. The man that stood before him reminded Harry so much of his godfather. Long strong legs bent down to kneel before him, and glowing golden eyes said hauntingly. "I, Freak, bound myself to your service Master."

Harry's heart dropped. He rushed towards the book, and in his handwriting was written;

_Harry Potter: I bound Freak, the man, to my service._

* * *

In his room at the Sturdy Bucket, Harry and the new stranger sat face to face, staring at each other in silence. The Genie was torn between gratitude and suspicion. It was the first time since the first millennia that he was allowed to be human again. 'Who is this new kind Master? Why did reward me with this after I lied to his godfather?' He stared at Harry's face, searching for answers in those sad green eyes.

Harry's mind, however, is far from anger or suspicion. In fact, the boy is overwhelmed with panic and guilt. Guilt for naming his future servant a name that he loathe, and panic for having a half naked man draped with a dirty pillowcase sitting on his bed. Just hours after seeing his best friends snog the living hell out of each other, he is not ready to process all of this new information.

"I would like to-"

"This was a-"

The genie stopped and chuckled at Harry's red face. He could see that his new master isn't used to taking charge of a situation. Harry raised his hand and sighed in expiration. "First of all," he took a deep calming breath. "I would like to say that it wasn't my intention to name you.. ah" he coughed, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. "Freak."

The man crocked his head to the side. "Well of course it wasn't intentional, you were trying to insult me when Ashwald's book recorded it as a naming ritual. Even an idiot could see that." The man said. He wanted to be playful and friendly but his tone is just too arrogant and sharp to do so.

Harry's eyes shot up in disbelief. And here he was trying to make peace with the ungrateful bastard. "No, I wasn't insulting you. I was defending Sirius's memory after you insulted him for no reason." Harry said in a low voice, his voice dangerously quiet. "And you should do well to never insult him in my presence ever again."

The genie eyes fell, his body became rigid, and his jaw clenched painfully. The boy didn't know. In his eyes, Sirius Black could do no wrong. He never knew about the mean pranks Sirius pulled on him during his boyhood, or about the sullen apathetic teenage Black who slammed the door on his face every time he knocked on it. Nor did the boy know about the adult Sirius Black, and how cruel he could be with his words. Sirius Black may be a kind man to the boy, but to the House Elf Kreacher, he was nothing more than an overbearing master.

The Genie bears no love for his late master, and he wished his new master could see it from his point of view. But in the end, he obeyed and said the same word that he said since the dawn of man. "Yes Master." It is not a servant's job to speak up and complain. He only needs to obey like he always does and hope that this time, the fates would be kinder to him.

Harry noticed how the Genie receded back into his shell. He felt guilt in his heart. "Listen," Harry sighed, messaging his forehead with his fingers. "I know that you and Sirius never got along. I get that, but he is my godfather. He's the very last person who loved me like a family. And I-" Harry stood up, turning away from the elf to hide his welling tears. "Just stop bad mouthing him."

The Genie was at loss for words. He expected a lashing, or at the very least a scolding, but he never expected the great Harry Potter breaking down in front of him. 'This boy must have never owned a servant before.' He thought to himself, amused at the whole situation. In the end, sympathy overwhelmed him and he moved closer to comfort his master. "I understand Master, please forgive me. It wasn't my intention to upset you." He said, taking a napkin and passing it along to the boy.

Harry took the cloth as a token of peace, burying his face in the soft folds to hide his embarrassment. "Good, because if you keep being a little prick, then I'm going to turn you back into a house elf." Harry said quietly. He looked up and expected to see an unhappy look. Lo and behold, the man's face was statuesque, with his lips pursed into a thin line.

"I'm just joking." Harry laughed nervously, patting the man's arm. He waved his hand nonchalantly and sat down on a plush armchair. "Sorry." Harry said quietly. Suddenly, the Genie burst out into laughter at the sight of the nervous boy. "I'm glad I am not the only one trying to lighten up the mood." He chuckled, trying to contain his mirth.

"Well it seemed that we are both horrible at it." Harry smirked in amusement.

"Then its best if we refrain from doing so in the future my lord."

"Deal."

For a moment, they both sat in silence before exploding in laughter at their absurd situation. There they sat, genie and his master, agreeing to never be humorous again because they are far too serious to do so. How very British of them.

Harry coughed and began to take a more severe tone. "But in all seriousness, I would like to have you as an ally. I'm new to this whole heir thing, and I would love it if you could guide me through this properly." Harry turned to the man and looked him in the eyes. "I really need your help. I don't have anyone else. So please." He said, putting his pride aside and said those words with the outmost sincerity.

The man tilted his head, surprised at the honesty found in his master's voice. This boy is a curious creature indeed. "Is that your wish?" The genie asked, his blue eyes piercing into his soul.

Harry looked at him quietly, trying to gauge if the genie is tricking him. "Yes, that is my wish."

Suddenly, the air turned light, gravity seemed to cease to exist. Harry could feel his hair and clothes flowing around him. When he looked up, the genie's eyes are filled with that strange golden liquid. "Then it is done." The genie said with finality in his voice. Gravity came back into existence; the golden liquid disappeared and was replaced with a determined look in his eyes.

"Whoa," Harry loosened his grip on the armchair. "What was that?"

The genie smiled. It's been a while since anyone was in awe of him. "I am a magical being whose sole existence is powered by your desires. With a new master, my life is renewed. By wishing, you're giving me the power so I can complete those whishes."

"Ah!" Harry exclaimed. "Is that why when Sirius's mother and brother died, Kreacher seemed to waste away?"

The genie gave him a cryptic smile. What a sharp young man. "Amongst other things." He answered, recalling the memory Regulus Black, one of the kinder masters he served over the years. "Alas, let us forget about that sordid life. I am now Freak, your Butler and loyal servant."

Harry shifted around on his seat, clearly uncomfortable with the name. "I rather call you with another name." he muttered. "As angry as I was, I rather not call you with the same name that my uncle called me. It's much too cruel." The butler gave him an alarmed look.

"Your uncle..?" He said slowly, imagining the worst scenarios in his head. Before Harry could rectify the misunderstanding, a knock interrupted their exchange. "Mr. Potter! There are visitors waiting for you!"

Harry stood up abruptly, a jolt of panic striking him in his heart. There are only a handful of people who are looking for him this close to the start of the school year, and Harry isn't keen on seeing any of them. "Tell them I am not accepting visitors tonight!" He shouted, panic evident in his voice. He pushed his butler onto his bed and threw a blanket over him. "Hide." Harry mouthed to him. The genie rolled his eyes and threw off the offending stretch of fabric. It seemed that his master is still unfamiliar the concept of _wishes._

"Well sir, they are rather insistent." The polite voice said, clearly uncomfortable with the whole situation. The voice of the reluctant innkeeper was suddenly replaced by insistent pounding on the door.

"Harry mate, open the door! Its me, Ron." The genie grimaced at the racket, trying to hide his disbelief that the oaf pounding at the door is his master's friend.

"Harry?" A soft voice of a girl flowed through the door. "We saw you at the Alley today. Why didn't you say hello?" Harry's ear tingled when he heard Ginny's voice. His heart skipped a beat, his breath hitched, and his stomach flutters. He really does fancy her.

"I..I-I don't know…"He stammered, his words jumbled up between anger and false friendliness. The genie looked up at his hopeless master, noticing his blush and his flustered movement. With a sigh, he rose from the bed and put a firm grip on his shoulders.

"Calm down Master." He said, his voice kind and firm at the same time. "I can hide so you wont have to explain about m-"

"No! Don't!" Harry interrupted him, the through of facing the two of the alone seemed impossible for him. "I really don't want to see them right now." He admitted weakly. It embarrassing to say, but with all of his anger and indignation, he simply couldn't muster up the courage to face his friends.

Harry's sighed in relief when his new helper nodded without commenting on his cowardice. "Wish it then, and I'll take you away from this ridiculous situation."

The boy nodded. His heart is set. "I wish I could be somewhere else but here." He said." With those words, he closed his eyes and waited for the familiar feeling of weightlessness to overcome his body.

"As you wish Master."

* * *

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the Property of JK Rowling, I am not gaining any profit from writing this fanfiction.

AN: I hope you all enjoyed this new chapter. I hoped I did alright with Kreacher's new persona. Let me know if you like, hate, or simply don't care for him! All Reviews welcomed, be it positive, negative, or flames.

Next chapter, Escape to Black Manor! See you all there!


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Escape to Black Manor**

* * *

"_Names, once they are in common use, quickly become mere sound, their etymology being buried, like so many of the earth's marvels, beneath the dust of habit." – Salaman Rushdie_

* * *

When Harry's feet touched the ground he could only the warmth of his servant's hand on his arm. In a flash, the warmth was gone, replaced by an overwhelming coldness that spread through his body. On instinct, Harry lay down and pulled his knees up to his chest, trying to escape from the cold dampness of the room. He tried to breathe in, but the damp air suffocated him, shrivelling his lungs with its intense feeling of dread. Harry chocked and heaved, trying hard to gulp a lungful of fresh air. 'Something is wrong.' Harry thought to himself.

In the dim light Harry could see his butler getting up from his knees. He looked down to his master, blue eyes steady and unreadable. Harry opened his mouth, but dread filled his throat. He could speak. The genie cocked his head and walked away. Harry tried to reach up to him, but his arms failed pathetically and fell down in front of him lifelessly. Harry remembered the accounts of Jhadar Ashwald,, and how the very same genie killed him. His hand began to tremble from both coldness and trepidation.

'My butler is trying to kill me.' With that last thought, Harry Potter lost consciousness and began to seize.

* * *

The sound of a crackling fireplace jolted Harry Potter awake from his nightmarish vision. He gasped, gulping in the fresh warm air that his lungs needed so dearly. He was lying on a large dusty old couch, with the furniture haphazardly pushed close towards the fireplace. After his heart rate clamed down enough, Harry pushed over the ornate fur blanket that was laid over him and stomped over angrily in search of his genie butler.

His anger subsided when he saw how eerie the room was. Every piece of furniture surrounding him are all covered in white sheets, with thick coating of dust settled on top of them. They look undisturbed for a number of years. The grand room looked eerie, and the light from the fireplace didn't help to improve the atmosphere either. He explored the room, noticing how the shine of opulent ornaments has been dulled by neglect and time.

At first Harry thought he was back in Grimmauld Place, the room had that same aura of neglect and nobility. However, the lack of sound and light tells him he is in a place far more… ancient. He examined the rest of the room curiously, trying to piece together where he is. Beneath the dust he found intricate tapestries faded in colors, exquisite sculptures of dragons and snakes, and empty portrait frames embellished with precious metals. Even the couch that he was resting on looked like a piece of art. Confounded, Harry came into the conclusion that he is in the home of a very rich, albeit very lazy, baron.

After a while, Harry decided that he had wasted enough time in the room and needed to find his butler for some explanation. He opened the grand door, the cold marble handle sending an unwanted chill down his spine. When he looked out, he was met with a long and dark hallway, with a light glowing at the very end of it. Harry shut the door with a loud bang, breathing rapidly to calm his racing heart. He speculated that his insubordinate butler is on the end of the hallway, but he would rather not walked into darkness and experienced that suffocating dampness again.

So he sprinted. He kept his eyes shut and his head down, ignoring whatever commotion that sounded on his sides. A shrill crash came from his left, and he was sure that he knocked over some thousand-year-old vase. Screw that ancient-and-probably-priceless vase. He could cast a _reparo_ on the vase but he cant cast a _reparo_ on himself. So Harry kept his head down and ran until light flooded his eyes.

He found himself standing in a kitchen of some sort. Like the rest of the house, dust too blanketed every surface and hid its features from him. Harry could make out the rough shape of a stove and a massive table. At the end of the table sat his genie butler, hunching over a glowing pit of fire.

The genie looked up from his ministration to acknowledge him. "I see you've awakened." A familiar voice said dryly to him.

Harry took a deep breath so he could started to shout but stopped himself midway. The whole situation was so completely mad that the boy couldn't find the exact words to lash at the man. So he settled for a sarcastic laugh and a pointed look. "How observant of you." Harry said, his lips stretched thin in anger. He walked over to his servant and took a seat next to him.

The genie raised his eyebrow but said nothing. He ignored the boy and continued putting in logs into a large circular hole in the ground. It was a massive thing of coal and wood, with its diameter stretching over five meter and fire creeping lazily inside. The rim of the hole is lined with blacked stones, an evidence of how powerful the fire could be if it is build properly. Finally, Harry was too curious to ignore his butler any longer and decided to give in. "What is that?" Harry asked, breaking the silence. He took a long stick from a pile of dry wood and poked the glowing amber.

Without any warning, flames flared up temperamentally at him, licking the side of his hand. Harry yelped and dropped the stick into the pit, having it consumed and turned into ash. The fire hisses and growled, spitting out flakes of amber before settling down into a slow glowering blaze.

The genie looked at Harry like he was an idiot. "_She,"_ he said sharply. "-is the Black Manor's Hearth. Heart and protector of the family." He took his master's hand gently to inspect the wounds. "She is the reason we are not suffocated by the pressure and the cold."

Harry rolled his eyes at the arrogant tone. "I didn't mean to insult it-her." He quickly changed his tone when the flame grew higher. The genie chuckled and held a damp cloth to Harry's skin. Harry wondered how thoughtless the genie must've been to be able to summon a cloth to alleviate his master's burns, but is unable to procure a set of decent clothes to replace that old pillowcase he is wearing.

The genie laughed. "Oh you didn't Master. You see, this manor has been abandoned for a good century or so, and She is rather confused to be awaked after so long." His Butler showed his own burns. "I rushed to light her up so you wouldn't suffocate. But it seems like even I couldn't escape her wrath." He said lightheartedly.

"Ah so that's why you went away earlier." Harry mussed out loud. "I thought you were going to k-…" He let his words hung awkwardly in the air, stopping himself before he could bring up his suspicion. The genie pretended to not see the flash of uneasiness on his master's face and focused on cleaning his master's injuries. Harry saw the burns on his servant's hand and felt bad that he would think badly of someone who saved his life. "Thank you." Harry said firmly. "Thank you for saving me eh…"

"Its Freak my Lord." The servant offered his name, keeping his eyes trained to the ground. Harry felt a pang of guilt and shame, remembering all of the times Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia called him the same name for simply having magic.

"No." He said firmly. "I will not call you that name. Like I said, it was a mistake." Calling the genie that would make him as bad as his horrible relatives. "So because it's a mistake, you can choose your own name if you like."

"My.. own name?" The genie looked up to his master, expecting malicious words to come out and dashed his hope. However, there was only sincerity in those deep emerald eyes.

"…then Alexander?" he asked tentatively

"If you wanted." Harry beamed, glad that the genie is taking up on his offer and began to open up to him. It lessens the guilt of naming him 'Freak'.

The genie's grateful eyes turned into a mischievous glee and he began to drawl out the names of emperors of old from A to Z.

* * *

"… should I just re-name you again so you can shut up?" Harry said in expiration, laying his head down on the table. For an hour the genie has not stopped reciting names and Harry was getting to the point where he is considering stupefying himself to sleep.

The man stopped midway in pronouncing Xanthus, a mythical horse from the Greek mythology, and smiled gratefully to his master. "Of course! My apologies Master. It would be my honor to receive your chosen name." He said, bowing his head ever so slightly.

"Really?" Harry sat up, surprised at the man's eagerness. He never thought that the genie would take his suggestion. "Then… how about Hagrid?" He suggested, slightly embarrassed as he mentioned the name. "He's my very first friend." A small sad smile playing on his lips as he remembered that stormy October night when he was rescued from his abusive relatives.

"Hagrid…?" The genie muttered, letting the familiar name roll in his tongue. Then recollection came to him and he crinkled his nose in disgust. "You wanted to name me after the half giant? I think not." He huffed, as if saying the name has tainted him. "Alexander, or Victorinox seems more fitting. Big powerful name." The genie said smugly.

So for the next hour they continue to argue about names, with the genie completely rejecting each and every suggestion that Harry offered until the boy reached his limit.

"I am your master, and if your master offered a simple name like Stevens or Smiths, you will shut the hell up and say yes!" After that final authoritative shove, the butler reluctantly agreed.

"Very well. My name shall be Stevens." The genie said with finality. "Or Smiths. I really don't know, Smiths is simply too-"

"Just. Choose. One." Harry croaked in desperation. He is so close to pounding his head on the table.

"Fine." The butler mumbled unhappily. "Stevens."

"Fine. Great. Fantastic."

There was a few tense seconds of silence before pandemonium began.

"On second thought-"

"No second thought."

"But I-"

"Your name is Stevens."

"But Alexander is-"

"- is not your name."

"But my Lord-"

"Don't argue with me Stevens."

"Fine."

"Fine."

There was another uncomfortable moment of awkward silence. Fearing a new complaint that would start another hour-long argument, Harry quickly coughed and changed the topic to distract his brooding butler. "So… Where are we anyways?"

Stevens face changed from a sullen child to a mischievous one. "We're in one of the Black properties my Lord, the forgotten Black Manor." He said, clearly enjoying being a know-it-all in front of his master.

"Forgotten?" Harry laughed uneasily. "How can someone just forget a manor that they happen to inherit?" He laughed uneasily. However, deep inside, Harry wondered just how many properties did the Black family owned that they can ignore a manor. 'Sirius must've been loaded.'

Stevens cleared his throat and straightened his back as he began to recite the Black family history. "Well first of all, the people who tried to come in and inspect this place are always suffocated to death."

"Ah, because of the ghost?" Harry whispered, looking around as if he didn't want the ghost to hear him.

Stevens laughed at his master who is apparently still afraid of ghosts. "Well no. Its just that because this manor is underwater, the hearth needs to-"

"Wait a minute. Under-what?"

"Water. This Manor is build under water. Lake to be precise. The Black Lake."

"You mean the one in Hogwarts's grounds?" Harry asked skeptically. "_Hogwart's _lake?"

"Yes!" Stevens laughed. "Silly Master, the Grounds has always been and will forever be Black's territory. Hogwarts is merely a temporary tenant." He said flippantly. Sensing his master's disbelief, he added, "Why else would we call it the Lake 'Black Lake' when the water is green?"

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Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the Property of JK Rowling, I am not gaining any profit from writing this fanfiction.

AN: Hello again! Thank you for reading this chapter. Finally the Genie has a name! I tried to express Steven's personality through his dialogs with Harry, I hope it comes through well (even through the atmosphere of the chapter seemed to changed 360 degrees hahaha). I'll try and improve my pacing with the next chapter ^^. As always, all reviews are welcomed, be it positive, negative, or flames.

See you next chapter!


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